


Shrike

by Zebooboo



Series: Wasteland [9]
Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: M/M, so close, the boys are getting there
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-17
Updated: 2019-06-17
Packaged: 2020-05-13 19:58:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19258135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zebooboo/pseuds/Zebooboo
Summary: He didn't know if he wanted to continue imagining the hand he was holding was warm flesh and rough skin or cooler metal and delicate frame. And the longer Cayde didn't move his fingers the longer he could trick himself into not worrying what thoughts like that meant.





	Shrike

**Author's Note:**

> This ran away from me and became huge, I don't know how @_@ enjoy

"And they sleep."

"Finally, Cayde hasn't really relaxed in days."

"And Fee is constantly on high alert for Schala. The visions can be really hard on her. Everything was so...stressful."

"Things were bound to go south Mia, at least nobody _actually_  got hurt."

"Yeah... Hey, let me ping Tyr. He was pretty worried when Schala wasn't opening up the door for Feros."

_"...Mia? Is everything alright over there?"_

"Yeah, Fee and Cayde are sleeping. Is Schala ok?"

_"If mangling every piece of scrap metal she could find with her bare hands counts as fine then yes..."_

"Still mad then."

"Can't blame her. She's kind of like a prisoner in here."

_"It's more of a trust issue than a restlessness thing Sundance. Even if being stuck here doesn't help."_

"Well that just makes it more complicated. Cayde and Feros are barely getting used to being around each other again. Adding Schala to the mix is just... explosive."

_"It will take a bit before she calms down, but she will try to talk about this at least."_

"That's good. Better than what these two had until now."

"Until we made sure they did _something_."

"Fun times, right Mia?"

_"You two can be pretty scary..."_

"Hey, you did help out with that tip! You're just as bad as us!"

_"What? No!"_

"But, yes!"

_"No!"_

"Just accept it Tyr."

_"No, I won't!"_

"Sundance tell him!"

"Welcome to the ranks."

_"No!"_

\---

Her back leaned against the frame of her bed, a cloth covered the floor around her knees and her sniper rifle was dismantled, spread across the sheet. She ran a cloth along the barrel, the metal was clean enough that she could use it like a mirror.

Schala set it down carefully and looked up from her hunch. The figure standing in front of her window hadn't moved. It was just there, shimmering along the edges and becoming more clear and defined by the minute. She felt tired just by looking at it.

The trickle of Void was tiny, miniscule and she had plugged it over and over and over but this just would not go away. Her eyes shut off and her head hung back on the bed. She was so tired, stuck between exhaustion and fury and her Light raging in her bones and marrow for hours and _hours_. Now there were just the coals and the embers at the pit of her stomach, just enough to ward off the chill and not plummet into a vision.

She peeked at her silent sentinel, unmoving and forever watching. She knew they could speak, she remembers a vision where the two of them talk, but she hadn't been able to parse anything. And now nothing. She sighed and started reassembling her rifle with slow movements.

Once the last piece clicked into place she hoisted it and aimed up at the head of the apparition.

"Pew..."

There was no reaction.

She blinked and looked away from the scope. Was that...a plume? Schala squinted, tilted her head and sure enough, that was a plume on the helmet. Well, this might as well be a thing.

She shrugged to herself and stood up to stow away her weapon, toes knocking into stray pieces of distorted metal that had fallen off her workbench onto the metal sheet she'd laid out. She stored away her cleaning supplies, picked up the mangled pieces, tossed away the unsalvagable and putting away the little left that was useful.

She braced against the table and sighed. The weariness felt like a second skin, but sleep would just bring her more visions and incomprehension and dread and fear and she's had rather enough for today. Between Shaxx's Mayhem testing pulling her into jubilation and slight physical exhaustion, and that odd argument at Feros' place like she was an invalid in need of constant supervision draining her mentally, she felt just about done.

She shifted uncomfortably, looked at the plumed figure once more and a fresh wave of irritation and indignation swept through her. It was because of shit like _this_  that she has been confined in the City, in the Tower, for months already and will _continue_  to be stuck here for fuck knows how long, completely _useless_.

Because of shit like this that Feros had looked more and more haggard as the days passed by, hovering constantly. That Ikora was tense and proding and checking and double checking both sources in their research material and every corner they took when they walked through the Tower.

It was just Cayde that seemed to be a breath of fresh air with how he took everything in stride. Or at least, he made it seem that way, the bastard. She picked up a small screwdriver and threw it at the figure, it passed through them and the apparition dissipated. She knew it will reappear soon enough. She wanted to scream.

All the while Tyr looked on worriedly from the windowsill. His points dug into his pillow, pinching fabric and shifting constantly. He wanted to help, he really did. But how could he. Schala was in no mood or mental state for drawn out discussions, Mia and Sundance could no more help the situation than he could and the final say was with Ikora no matter what Cayde's opinion was. Or even Zavala's, he had left the issue in Ikora's hands afterall. And he was just a Ghost. All he could do was talk and open doors and was all out of both.

He perked up as Schala pulled on her boots, flying over to her side. "Schala? Where are we going? Are you...alright?"

The exo laced up her boots and nudged one his peaks gently but did not speak. She holstered her rarely used handcannon and left the apartment. Tyr fazed out of sight but kept his eye on Schala. Her gait was tense, rigid and her eyes resolutely looking forward. Ah, he knew that look.

It was there whenever she was trying very hard to ignore things that should not be there. Whenever things were just about to get bad and she searched desperately for a distraction. Usually it involved some remote rock closer to the sea and her sniper rifle, picking off anything that came by.

He watched sadly and helplessly as his Guardian walked down the hall, other Guardians veering out her way. It was late enough to be so early that people meandered about tiredly but late enough that there were only few.

Schala took a turn and suddenly the halls were empty. The training rooms went unused so much that finding a person over here was a miracle half the time. Most Guardians spent their time at the range or the Crucible if they wanted to train, though most just didn't bother, already spending enough time on the field and on patrols to not need the training after the first few weeks of their lives.

Schala halted mid step and Tyr hissed into existence next to her ear. There was a small frown of concentration on her face before a dull bang sounded and she walked purposely towards a door and cracking it open slowly. She peeked inside and Tyr hovered curiously over her head.

A Warlock watched on as a Titan stomped angrily at the floor before wrenching off their helmet and tossing it on the ground. Tyr vaguely thought he was happy that the training rooms where ground level so if the Titan blew open a hole on the floor it wouldn't collapse under their feet.

The Warlock crossed their arms and said something that made the Titan throw up their arms in frustration and turn towards the targets at the far end of the room. They put up a hand and collected Light on their palm. The brightness condensed into a grenade and the Titan chucked it towards the targets.

Tyr ducked behind Schala's back quickly as the flash of the explosion lit up the place. A moment later he wondered why Schala wasn't taking cover.

The exo let the hand shading her eyes fall and walked inside on light feet, perplexed. The duo were absorbed enough on their duscussion of flailing hands, loud voices and flickering Light that they did not notice Schala walk in. She looked beyond them, to look over to the targets. There was hardly a scratch on them for all the lightshow that grenade had created.

She smothered a snort as the Titan flopped down to lay on the floor while the Warlock leaned over them with arms akimbo lecturing them about how _you can't just punch everything into submission_!

She giggled into her palm and leaned against the wall to support her tired frame, most of her irritation forgotten. The Titan lifted into a sitting position and waved the Warlock further back. A moment later another grenade was in their hand and then sailing through the air.

The Light sang a high, flat note and then dissipated. Schala blinked spots out of her eyes. Well. That was a hollow grenade if ever she saw one. (Or heard one.)

She saw where it went wrong. Where the phase of the Light thinned and snapped and the Guardian couldn't bridge the gap. She could take their hand and pull it past the edge. She _knew_  how. She knew. But her feet refused to budge, though she wanted them to. They were just a few metres inside the room, hells she could speak up and they would hear her.

Her shoulder moved against the wall but her knees were locked in place. A scowl stretched on her face. Her knees were cold. The tips of her fingers were cold. Her embers weren't getting any hotter.

A flicker to the side caught her attention but she refused to look. She balled her fists tightly and her ear wings snapped down. Her eyes narrowed down to the other two Guardians squabbling about the merits of punching versus blowing up emenies and she latched onto the conversation tightly.

Her cheeks lit up a flashy white and her voice came out scratchy but steady. The duo's heads swivelled over to her in surprise. There weren't any more sudden movements at the edges of the room.

\---

It was almost dawn. Cayde did not want to move.

There was a weight against his back and a heavy arm around his waist and the palest light coming in from the doorway.

He wasn't sure if he wanted to open his eyes yet either. He didn't know if he wanted to continue imagining the hand he was holding was warm flesh and rough skin or cooler metal and delicate frame. And the longer Cayde didn't move his fingers the longer he could trick himself into not worrying what thoughts like that meant.

If he remained as still as he could manage, maybe he'd go back to sleep and forget this and not have to worry about any of it. Maybe he'd dream about some place and time so far removed where he had them all, together. Where he could reach out and touch them. How wondrous would it be.

His fingers tightened involuntarily around the hand he was holding and the illusion shattered like glass cutting into his chest. A small whimper lept from his throat before he could reign it in and the arm squeezed him a bit closer.

"Cayde?" Feros' voice was small and sleepy and concerned all the same. 

Cayde wanted to bury his face into the pillow, smother all the thoughts and the whispers and the want because it was all _wrong_  and fucking _unfair_. (To him? To Fee? No, no. To both. To all.)

"Go back to sleep, I just gotta get to my shift. Usual strike nonsense." He whispered back with a pat on Feros' arm and tried to disguise the stray whimper with a grunt as he preteneded to stretch.

The arm fell off his waist as he got out of bed and he missed the reassuring weight already. Feros shifted into the warm spot Cayde left behind and hummed in contentment, already asleep. It stang to hear it more than Cayde thought it would. He hovered, indecisive over the other for a moment, hand almost touching the shoulder peeking under the covers.

In the end he pulled the covers up and walked away, belts and holsters and cloak in hand. (He couldn't bare to wear it just yet. Just for a moment longer.)

He pulled his gear on outside the bedroom but he clutched the cloak in desperate fingers. They twitched and for a moment he feared he'd ripped a hole. He scrambled to hoist it up to look it over and the relief of it being as it always was sent him reeling, too early in the morning, still far from totaly awake. He slid down the wall to sit on the floor. Shit.

What was he doing. Shiro is right, he's a stupid idiot. Andal is fucking dead. Ace is dead. His Queen is dead. Tevis is dead. He might get to see them, someday. But right now? He dug his head against the wall. He was here. Fee was here, always covering his back. Shiro was a hop and a skip away. Ikora and Zavala were steady pillars in his life. Amanda was probably waiting on him to show her around every hangar on the Wall. Schala is mad at them all and _that_ needed to be fixed as soon as possible.

He stared at the cloak a moment longer before getting to his feet, clasping it around his shoulders. Feros and him are fine for now, Sundance had been a smug little shit after Feros dangled him off his feet in the Hall a little while ago. They'd talked a bit, they were working to get back to how they were. This... issue though, was his to pull through. It shouldn't have to be something weighing anyone else down, least of all Fee who would worry himself to death.

He left the apartment with a click of the door and took a steadying breath. The hallways where mostly empty. He spotted the odd Hunter perched on some precarious ledge or some sleep deprived Warlock with papers clutched in their hands with cups of coffee going between libraries, records and cryptarchs.

The Tower never changed. Sometimes he thought he'd take a turn and see someone who's long dead or long gone. Some times he wished he would. Well, maybe not Eris again. But he remembered an old coversation with Shaxx, back when there was still hope Saint-14 might be alive. But that was decades ago already and Saint remained missing. Maybe Wei Ning? Wei Ning used to be fun.

He was almost to Shaxx's station when an excited Titan tore past him to get to the Crucible handler. A more subdued Warlock followed right behind. He arched an eyebrow but only waved at Shaxx as he passed by. He got a nod in return and moved on.

Ikora was already there. She looked up from her datapad with a small nod and he gave a two finger salute. There was a small downwards crinkle on her lips. Ahh, Schala probably never answered her. He took up his spot before his maps and settled in. The operation would start as soon as Zavala finished debriefing the fireteam on comms on the other end of the room.

Just another Thursday.

\---

Dawn was here. The warm rays of the sun bounced off her face and across the room. A wisp of flame flickered on her shoulder and she patted it away. Tyr snuggled in the folds of her robes, looking up at her but Schala felt malcontent. She had done _something_. Even if that Titan (they'd introduced themselves, Titan and Warlock both, what were their names...) would have figured it out eventually, she'd helped. That moment when the faces of her audience lit up when they understood what she was explaining was amazing. When the Titan pulled together a truly destructive grenade it was a true moment of triumph. She wondered why she didn't really feel _useful_.

Her knees were still cold.

"You did great."

She wanted to grin, laugh. Say, 'Yes! She did!' But Tyr's voice echoed in her ears. A duality, another voice overlapping the Ghost's. It rattled around her skull, resonating in her bones.

Her smile was wan, her face pinched. She was tired. She wanted _out_. Of the Tower. Of the visions. Of the hellish fire and smoke she saw from every window. Of the stalking presence at the edges of her vision. Of the feeling of futility weighing down her every action.

Fire leaked out of her back, slowly forming into her blazing wings. She was so tired still. The fire spread along her shoulders, down her chest, around her legs. Tyr jerked out of her robes and flitted worriedly around her. He said something but it was drowned by the crackling fire.

She burned. But not really. There was a collection of wings on her back, she could just barely feel them twitch and she ached for warmth. For steadiness and trust and _peace_. So she wouldn't see any more hurt and pain. Where she could just _be_.

She curled in on herself and smothered the fire. Tyr was babbling away next to her ear wing and she pulled him to her chest, hugging him close. There was no other voice over his.

She felt colder.

\---

Feros fidgeted with his cloak. Pulling at the frayed end, looping the fabric around his finger and rubbing it between index and thumb. He's been standing outside Schala's door for the past seven minutes. Mia started counting minutes after the third time he dropped his arm without knocking.

"Fifty-seven, fifty-eight, fifty-niiiine, eight minutes! Come oooon Fee, just knock! At worst she won't answer." She poked her spikes into his cheekbone and went to hover pointedly before the door pad. He didn't move. Mia flicked a beam of light into the electronic lock.

He hurriedly pushed her away, in case she really would go ahead with hacking the door. Feros sighed and rubbed the nubs on his head. He'd wanted to give her some days to cool off, he really did.

But (he was worried) Cayde had asked him to check in on her, because apparently she'd dropped off the Vanguard network, locked her comm line and nothing short of an emergency broadcast would go through, barring hacking.

He shifted once more and lifted his arm again. Cayde kept sending him messages throughout the strike op and afterwards during the shift. Feros had woken up to a growing pile of messages that didn't wait for an answer before launching into talking about a different tidbit of information or happening constantly.

He'd skimmed through the more important ones. Usually the shorter ones, Cayde liked to talk about all sorts of things besides actual _issues_. He usually let those fester until they _had_ to be addressed. Not that he felt like he had any room to talk.

Anyway, the gist of the messages was that things were tense in the Hall. Ikora was bouncing between distractedly worried and aggressively preoccupied and it was making Zavala twitchy. It made Cayde babble. Cayde babbled when he was stressed.

Shaxx was entirely unaffected. He worried little for Schala's visions and trusted she was more than capable of taking care of them, all of them were simply overreacting he'd said. Shaxx was also a bit _too_  exuberant these days. Must be what he'd dragged Schala into testing. He's been a bit distracted.

He raps knuckles against the door and takes an uncertain step back. Regardless of Lords and Vanguard, Feros hopes she's alright. Too much excitement makes the Void act up. A few terse seconds pass. The door doesn't open, neither does he hear any shuffling. Disappointment grips him. Of course she wouldn't open the door.

He shuffles and tries again. "Schala?" He presses the side of his face against the door, as if getting closer will suddenly make his sensors better. He hears nothing.

A breath pushes past his throat and he closes his eyes. He can't feel the Light like a Warlock but he's got enough practise. He expands for a few seconds, prodding carefully around. The place is empty. He blinks the sudden blurriness away, rubbing a hand into the optic socket.

Where was she. The thought of her grabbing the first ship she could find and leaving the City seizes him and he starts running across the Tower. He opens up the private line between him and Cayde.

"Tell me no missing ships have been reported."

_"Uh, what? No, nothing, just Dead Orbit reports of scuffles with Fallen ketches for the past month. Why?"_

Feros dashes through hallways and ducks under outstretched arms and past gaggles of Guardians dancing around. He was probably wrong but the an inexplicable panic had taken control of his legs and if he did not check, he would not _know._

"Just, just a hunch."

_"You...don't think she-"_

"No, but I need to check."

There was a dose of mirroring panic in Cayde's voice as Feros burst into the main Hangar. A few people paused to look at him with raised eyebrows but went back to their tasks.

He flitted around the place, looking in on his ship, Cayde's ship, Schala's empty spot, a few other potential victims Feros had thought of because the owners hadn't left the City in a few weeks. Nothing was out of place. A quick stop by the main terminal to go through ins and outs and he sagged onto a nearby chair like a sack.

"False alarm."

_"Ah, great! Cause Ikora was looking at me funny and I wouldn't know what to tell her."_

"I still can't find her."

" _What. Fee, tell you didn't say that. It's getting a bit hot in here. Tell me you didn't just say that."_

"I'll tell you when I find her."

_"Fee tell me you didn-"_

Mia giggled at the sudden shutting of the comms. He cups a hand around her and bring her in front of his face.

"Mia, sweetheart, I know you and Sundance like keeping in touch and I know you like Tyr, tell me you know where he is."

Mia's sharp points stilled for a second before she danced out between his fingers, peaks doing a lazy rotation.

"Well I don't know."

"Mia, please tell me, I _know_  you know something. It's written all over you."

"Oh, now you're an expert on Ghost behaviour?"

"I'm an expert on Mia behaviour. Spill."

He crossed his arms over his chest and looked at her with dimmed eyes. Mia stared back for a long moment. The cacophony of the place filling the silence. They stayed like that for a long moment. Mia twisted in the air.

"Ugh fine, they're in the Tower if you _must_  know. But I'm not telling where. I have some dignity."

Feros sighs in relief. That's good, really good. He taps a finger on all her points and offers his palm.

"Thanks sweet."

She grumbles and rests on his hand. He situates her into her usual spot in his hood and starts to leave. Time to go looking. Or else Cayde might blow a fuse.

\---

It's an hour later that he walks in the training room section and for some reason, it feels unbearably hot. He walks carefully around the hallways, did someone accidentally open the heating system of the section? He pulls at the scarf around his throat, loosening it.

No, this heat sticks on him, warming him to the core in an instant. Someone was playing around with Solar Light. He starts peeking inside rooms as he passes by.

He opens another door and sees her standing across the room, staring out the window towards the wilderness below. There's a couple of sets of wings on her back. He keeps his voice low, "Schala?"

They flicker and fade at the sound of him coming in and she turns around to look at him. He walks over to stand next to her, hand raising to touch her shoulders but he stops just shy of her robes.

Her face looks smooth, no scowls or hard stares but she's also just...staring, looking straight past him, barely reacting and saying nothing. He waves his palm in front of her face, she follows it with her eyes.

Tyr slips out of a fold on her waist and meets Mia in the air. His eyes flicker away to look at the Ghosts bumping corners and suddenly he has an armful of cold exo wrapping her arms around his torso. His arms wrap around her on instinct and he shivers at the cold seeping through his clothes. She mumbles something into his chest but he can't hear. He is both relieved and alarmed.

"She's been like that for hours. Wouldn't let me call for anyone."

He sighs and cradles her head against him. Her Light latches onto his and curls like a cat against it. It was switching between hot and cold. "Oh, Schal..." He was right, too much excitement makes the Void act up. Stubborn idiot. He opens the comm to Cayde.

_"-ably ignoring all of us Ikora, she hasn't even looked at the jokes I sent her!"_

"Hey, I found her."

_"Oh, oh! Fee! She's good then? Just ignoring us to get back at us? Nothing happened right?"_

Feros bent his knees and looped a arm under her legs. He lifted her small form and cradled her close, her head lolling against his neck. She mumbled again but her eyes were closed, a hand clasped against his loose scarf. He'll get her to bed to rest.

"Kinda." He glanced sideways at Tyr floating along. The Ghost clicked his points together and slipped in the call.

"She hasn't slept and I think she's been seeing...stuff since yesterday. She hasn't really spoken until she took a walk and ended up here. There were some Guardians here she helped. Mostly how to uh, make grenades."

_"Ah, I see. Well, um. Make sure she's ok and uh, tell her to check her messages? Ikora is pretty worried...What? Eh I am, yeah I'm... Yes Ikora. Yeah uh, I was kinda worried too...Hey, she never ignores my jokes!"_

Feros chuckles and closes the line. There were some odd glances when he got to the elvators but nobody said anything. People simply moved out of his way and kept taking double takes. He hitched Schala up a bit when she shifted oddly and seemed to slip between his arms but otherwise she was silent and unmoving and cold. It made him uneasy.

He was almost at his own door when he hesitated and stepped away to turn back. Her own place was a level and a corridor away, it might be for the better if she comes to in her own room.

He got more odd looks at the elvator.

Tyr opened the door for him and flew inside. Feros pulled back the covers and slowly laid her against the pillows. Her fingers gripped at him weakly but only his scarf stayed in her grip. He fumbled with her boots for a moment and then covered her up. Her lips were trembling slightly. A frown stretched his face.

He shook his arms a bit to shake off the chill that had seeped in and sat on the side of the bed. He brushed his fingers along her temple and she followed his touch when he pulled away. His cheeks ached from the frown stretching his faceplates too far apart.

Feros didn't want to leave her like this, shivering and cold, but pulling at the Void to suppress dreams would just make things worse. He couldn't chase away the chill, that always lingered. He couldn't remember how many times Tevis used to get frostbitten fingers and toes. A lot of times that old coot woke Feros up by shoving his freezing foot up the exo's back.

He huffed an amused breath at the memory of toes curling just so on his shoulder to get snagged between the plates. Tevis screamed bloody murder until Feros relaxed enough for the toes to slip out. It had been an interesting morning. Tevis didn't try waking him up like that again for months.

And while frostbite isn't exactly a concern here, frost forming in joints is just as bad. Feros hopped from one foot to another in indecisiveness before just giving up and pulling his cloak over his head. He snatches the fallen scarf from the bed and drapes them on the chair Schala keeps next to her workbench. His boots follow suit and then he props Schala up enough for him to slip behind her and gather her up against his chest again.

He elbows the pillow into submission beneath his waist and half-lays, half-sits against the headboard. Schala cracks open an eye during the whole process and then promptly snuggles against him and falls back asleep. Feros shivers for a moment and then tries to get his core to heat up.

He's not so good at getting his exo body to do tricks like raising temperature or rumbling like a motor. But he could certainly try. At least Mia will be happy he's getting rest, considering how much time he's spent in bed these days.

He waggles his fingers at Mia, who's perched next to Tyr on his pillow and gets his data pad transmated in hand. He shots a message at Cayde to let him know where they are in case he stops by Feros' apartment and then leans back. His arm tightens around Schala's waist and he tries to relax with the Void licking at his fingers.

He shakes it off and splays his fingers on the pad, scrolling through messages. What does Saladin even need him for at the Peak every single month? He grumbles and waves the pad for Mia to transmat away, at least he gets to see Shiro often enough. When he's not being a shit.

He pulls the covers up around them and huddles. Might as well get comfy.

\---

"How's she?"

Feros jerked in surprise at Cayde's voice next to his ear. The Vanguard hopped back a step when the Nightstalker's arm swang around towards his face. Feros sags into the mattress. Schala barely stirs.

"Well, I'm glad I don't get that kind of reception every time I wake you up."

Feros' throat burns bright with embarrassment. Cayde winks and leans down to bump the side of his head to Feros' forehead. Feros sighs and and runs a hand down Schala's back. Warm. Come to think of it, he feels a bit too warm. He tosses the covers aside and feels instantly better.

"So, how is she?" Cayde pulls the chair away from the workbench and twists it around to sit in, his arms fiddling with Feros' cloak still thrown over the back. Feros watched the fingers tag at the fur ruff of his cloak before snapping up to the face staring back at him.

"Better, not freezing at least." Slowly he pulls his legs back and slithers off the side of the bed, lowering his armful of exo down. She shifts around a bit and then settles.

"No visions either." He stands straight and walks over to Cayde. He grabs his cloak and tugs, it doesn't budge. Cayde is still looking at him. "Cayde?"

The other exo blinks and and lifts his arms abruptly. Feros tugs it around his shoulders without pulling up the hood and shoves his scarf in his pocket. Cayde tracks each movement and Feros watches him carefully. "What's wrong?"

He gets a shrug in response and it irks him. His hand darts out and closes around Cayde's wrist and starts pulling him outside the small apartment. He shushes the protests spilling from Cayde and shoves him outside.

"Talk to me dammit." Cayde frees his wrist and turns away.

"About what? Nothing's wrong."

"Bullshit."

Blue eyes glance up at his own orange ones before Cayde throws up an arm in another, exaggerated shrug and then swings around with the other hand on his hip to walk away. "Can't say I know what you're talking about."

Feros growls in irritation but doesn't move. "Do I _have_ to beat you up this time? Or do we just go back to not talking again?"

That stops Cayde in his tracks. Arms falling to hang by his sides.

"It... it doesn't matter. You can't do anything about it."

Feros steps around and sets his hands on Cayde's elbows. He looks beseechingly at him. 

"Can't, or you won't let me?"

Cayde's chuckle is bitter, it brings a bad taste in Feros' mouth.

"Can't bring back the dead or pick and toss out thoughts from my head, can you Fee?"

His fingers' hold tightens. No. No, he can't. Cayde looks at him wirh a resigned, bittersweet expression. He shrugs off Feros' hands and pats him on the chest as he walks around him.

"I can still listen."

Cayde makes a choked noise.

"...Yeah."

He sounds so small it makes Feros want to gather him up and hide him away from the world, keep him safe.

Feros walkd up to him and rests an arm around Cayde's shoulders. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Cayde seems to tense for a second before leaning into the embrace, slowly snaking an arm around Feros' waist. 

"Yeah." 

**Author's Note:**

> these boys i swear, they just won't let me make them kissssss
> 
> and i just wanna finish this part so my baby girl can stop suffering orz


End file.
